


Once a Lamb

by Viscount_Vampyre



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, Other, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscount_Vampyre/pseuds/Viscount_Vampyre
Summary: Ciel falls victim to another cult... Another horrible ritual. But this one's different, or is it? 5 Part short story. Rated for explicit content, themes, et cetera. Read and review.





	1. Chapter 1

Author’s foreword: This is going to be a five part/chapter series and comes to you from a request/prompt I received from two Anon. Its ‘M’ rating is well earned (in my humble opinion) and as a general disclaimer it will feature several things that are present and underpin the original Kuroshitsuji source material. For example: occultism, sexual content, and abuse.

Read and review, if you please, and I hope you enjoy one of my darker stories. -VV

Once a Lamb

Chapter 1: Captured

The hood smelt like whatever used to occupy it, rotten potatoes, beets, or some other kind of earthy vegetable…

But whatever it was, it stung Ciel’s nostrils with an acrid odour on his every breath.

The rough burlap was coarse and abrasive against his cheek. And from where his head rested on the floor the bag was stuck between his flesh and the motion of the carriage had rubbed him raw.

Weakly he would attempt to alleviate the ‘rug-burn’ from the bag by trying to raise his head.

Each time he’d only receive a moment of reprieve before one of his captors brought their foot down against his temple and pressed him back against the floor.

His hands felt tight and sore from struggling and from the awkward way that he had been laying. The constant motion didn’t help either.

The carriage he was in rumbled and rattled, seeming to find every bump in the decrepit road that they must have been on.

This constant noise wouldn’t allow him to find solace in sleep. Even though his head swam from the abduction, and his body was rigid with exhaustion, there was no way he could lose consciousness.

He was far too afraid for that, and there had been far too much activity for that.

The panic came in waves.

As the chemicals in Ciel’s brain would go through various cycles of dissipating, building, and then releasing again, he’d experience a terrifying collection of emotions. And as each wave would rise inside his chest he’d become more stricken and his resolve would weaken.

‘These scum…’ he began thinking.

‘I… I’ve got to try and focus… what- no, _where_ did they come from?’

As he tried to line up and make sense of the sequence of events which had happened so far he’d quickly stumble and fail in ordering them.

He’d been struck several times during and since the actual abduction, so much so that his memories were hazy at best and fantastical at worst.

The failure to have defended himself, the failure of Sebastian to intervene… Everything that had happened, it all made him want to scream in frustration, but he’d quickly learned from his previous verbal protests that his captors would have nothing to do with it.

Unlike the mafia goons who had abducted him once before these people seemed like complete professionals.

They said nothing to him, save for simple orders, and they maintained complete silence among one another too.

Eventually his tongue and his ego got the better of him and he mouthed off at them once too many times.

For this he had been repaid with a swift kick to his abdomen, winding him, and then the bag-hood was taken off so that a cloth gag could be tightly tied around his head and stuffed into his mouth.

Unlike the burlap bag the cloth gag was thankfully odourless, and had no discernible taste other than that of laundered material.

He tried to get any kind of glimpse of where they might be going but the carriage windows had been covered over by the cabin’s draw-string curtains.

‘Even if they were open…’ Ciel thought, ‘It’d be past sundown by now…’

He shuddered as he laid still and listened to the rumbling and rolling of the wheels below.

A noise came into the cabin and at first he didn’t know wherefrom.

It was low and steadily climbed in pitch.

As his chest heaved and his eyes swelled with warm wetness he realised; it was him.

Quiet sobs were escaping his mouth involuntarily; and try as he might to bite down on the gag and mute himself he just couldn’t.

His chest heaved under his loosened, pulled, and dishevelled clothing and his mind raced with maddened thoughts as he attempted to keep himself straight.

‘Shut up, you child!’ he tried telling himself, ‘J-just stop… th-they’re going to hit you!’

He shook and shivered at the thought of being beaten again and his skin grew clammy as he nervously anticipated the coming strike.

His stomach was turning over and over as a maddening level of anxiety over took him.

His chest and body were contorting themselves horribly, what he felt in his heart was leagues and bounds greater in its terror than when he had to speak in front of people or ask Elizabeth to dance…

His mind, no longer attempting to uphold any sense of decency, began pleading with himself; ‘I’ll never complain about such trifles again… I swear it… Lizzy, I’m sorry…’

He began shivering as his eyes watered and his mouth tensed around the gag.

Beside his head he heard the shuffling and the motion of one of those who had abducted him and he expected a hit to come.

He tensed and tried curling himself while on the floor, futilely attempting to make himself as small a target as possible.

Rather than a blow he instead received something far more insulting and far greater a wound:

The captor began laughing.

It was a low chuckle, but it was far more insidious than Ciel was seemingly able to handle at the moment and it threw him deeper into his lapse of self-control.

He didn’t begin wailing, but his sobs were certainly much louder than before.

The nervous shiver which began earlier increased in its reach across his entire body. At first it was just in his fingertips and toes; a tingling which made his skin and limbs move involuntarily.

Now, it had radiated up his limbs and his shoulders shook and twitched.

Sweat began to form on the back of his neck, making his hair and his collar stick to him uncomfortably. Sometimes the bumps of the road caused the bag to snag and pull at his hair from out of his collar.

The shivering was so unnerving to him that it was all he could do to keep it from consuming his body entirely and reducing him to a catatonic, rocking, state.

‘Sebastian…’ he began to plead.

‘He’s going to be coming for me, shortly, I know… Shortly…’

‘I’m sure of it.’

‘I’m sure of it…’

…

When the carriage finally stopped his body continued to rumble from the vibrations and he felt a malaise brought on by the abrupt lapse in motion.

He wanted to say ‘where are we’ but he wasn’t going to give these bastards the satisfaction.

He had to maintain his resolve…

He had to steel himself, no matter what was to come.

The door to the carriage opened and he smelt fresh air, it was cool and poured into the tight cabin, washing over everything with a refreshing and disinterested touch.

Ciel didn’t know if that made him feel worse or not, but here was the wind, and by extension the earth, completely oblivious and mute to anything which transpired upon her surface.

In the recesses of his mind a child-like part of him did persist, and in times of great duress it grew just that little bit louder; why doesn’t the wind help me? Why can’t it whisk a message to him? Why couldn’t it blow these men down and carry me away…

A strong and gruff hand took hold of his shoulder and began to pull him into an upright position.

“Sit” it commanded.

The sensation of blood rushing out of his over-gorged skull made Ciel shoot his hands out for purchase at either side. Yet the bonds at his wrist rudely reminded him he had to stand on his own.

Outside the carriage a voice spoke up, barely able to contain its excitement, “Is that… is it…”

He giggled perversely and shuddered.

Behind him Ciel heard the door on the other side of the carriage open and the noise of one of his captors exiting.

Beside him the one who had sat him up took hold of the top of the bag and ripped it off with a single motion.

“Aye.” The man confirmed with a smile.

It was dark, around dusk, yet the exterior of the cabin was illuminated by freestanding torches and lanterns.

Blinking his eyes open Ciel tried to focus on his surroundings but then met the gaze of the adoring man who had spoken and giggled.

His mouth was agape exposing a bright pink tongue and filed ivory teeth. His hair was long, slicked back with an uncomfortable amount of mousse, the colour of pepper. His face was clean shaven save for two long side-burns extending almost all the way to his jaw.

He leant in and brought his hands to his face as he squealed; “It’s Ciel Phantomhive!”

He jumped with excitement and did a pirouette. He was wearing a plain morning coat and the tails of the black garment sailed as he spun.

Ciel wanted to snarl and his lip rose in revulsion.

Beside him his captor spoke and placed his hands on his back pushing him towards the open doorway.

“Come on, out now _my lord_.”

Shooting his legs out of the cabin he felt for the step-rail of the carriage, but became distracted as he looked up at what was behind the smiling sharp-toothed man.

Seeing his expression and following his eyes the man cleared his throat and eagerly spoke,

“Welcome to Y-Gorthwr-du, lord Phantomhive!” he exclaimed, punctuating the sentence he bowed at the hip and spread his arms out widely.

‘Gorthwr? We’re… they brought me to _Wales_?’

Ciel shook his head as he shivered.

An ancient castle soared behind the man, its towers long since laid low, the parapets had worn down from years of sleet, and rain, and howling wind.

Yet its keep was covered in scaffolding and canvas tenting.

Evidentially restoration was being done on the old fortress…

‘Think Ciel… _think!_ A castle… in Wales, if it’s not on her majesty’s rolls of crown property it’s either been made public land, or private! Who could afford such an expense as to restore a thirteenth century castle?’

The boy’s mind began racing as he looked down and began dismounting the carriage.

The file-toothed man smiled perversely as he watched Ciel descend.

“Oh my lord…” he sighed, “ _My_ lord will be most pleased to finally meet you! As I have…”

Ciel made no effort to hide his disdain and disgust.

Yet they were interrupted. A great cry came out from the gatehouse and a man fell, tumbling off the battlement to his death.

The man beside Ciel tensed and audibly reacted nervously while the file-toothed man merely furrowed his brow and looked over lazily.

“Huh?”

Looking to the men from the carriage he waved them along, “Well! Go look!”

The two guards looked down at Ciel uneasily, “But the boy… shouldn’t we?”

Groaning the man ran his fingers through his shining hair and exhaled wearily.

The men nodded and moved away from Ciel as they wordlessly complied.

Stepping forwards he pointed at the two large men and complained, “It’s so hard to find good help, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ciel’s lip shook as he did his best to contain himself.

The man raised an eyebrow as he smiled and looked the young lord over, “Though I’m sure I don’t need to bring that score up with you, do I?”

He laughed privately.

Behind the man a rope noiselessly fell down the side of the wall and Ciel’s eyes widened as he looked up to see a figure begin descending.

The man spoke again but Ciel couldn’t hear him, he was entranced by the appearance of another person in their midst.

‘They must have thrown that guard over the parapet? Then… they’re no friend to these men!’

Ciel was tired, and he was willing to fly with any fancy which had the appearance of holding water. The appearance of a stranger descending a rope off the side of a castle wall was just such a fancy.

The figure appeared gaunt, with long dirty hair and rough-spun clothes. Yet their size and spidery motion made it clear that they were a youth, at least fifteen or sixteen years of age.

Watching with wild eyes Ciel could barely hide his interest as the figure climbed down hand over hand until they reached the grassy ground.

The sharp-toothed man looked away from his men and noticed Ciel’s gaze and lack of attention to his words this whole time.

“What could possibly-“ he said as he turned to follow Ciel’s eyes.

The figure leapt forwards in two bounds and struck the man with their leg in a high kick.

Ciel jumped backwards and hit his back against one of the carriages’ wheels as the sharp-toothed man fell to the muddy path with a loud groan.

His would-be rescuer could now be seen properly in the nearby torchlight and Ciel’s head shot back in surprise; it was a girl! Her face was filthy, covered in mud and grime.

Grimacing she delivered another kick with her bare feet before producing a small sharp stone from a pocket sewn into her tunic.

“Give me your hands!” she cried.

The sharp toothed man rolled from under her and cried to his men near the gate, “Leave the body you fools! She’s escaped!”

Ciel complied with the wild girl’s order and shoved his arms forwards.

Wrapping her long thin fingers around his right wrist she held him tightly as she sawed her sharpened stone through his rope bonds.

The men began running towards them when the bonds finally came free.

She threw her stone and it skillfully hit one of the men in the face, he cried and brought a massive hand to cover his ‘wound’.

“Follow me!” she roared.

Ciel was so bewildered that he didn’t know what else to do and when the girl took hold of his hand he struggled to keep up as she tore away from the path in a sprint.

In the gloomy light Ciel could see a great wood which had slowly grown up and around the grounds of the castle.

They slipped into the underbrush, panting and cracking twigs underfoot.

“W-who are you?!” Ciel finally panted out.

In the dark she shook her head as she drove them through the gnarled and gothic trees.

“Questions later save your breath! We need to get as far as we can before they ‘loose the dogs!”

Ciel didn’t feel at all comfortable with the girl speaking to him with such a tone, or with how she was nearly ripping his arm out of its socket.

But…

She’d saved him.

And if they needed to get away from dogs then… well he couldn’t really argue.

…


	2. Cult

Once a Lamb

Chapter 2: Cult

Ciel’s lungs burned, his legs hurt, and he was panting as fast as his body would allow.

The girl remained steady the whole time they sprinted through the wood and it felt like they had ran for hours before she finally slowed and he was allowed a moment of reprieve at a stream.

Ciel could barely see in front of him, moonlight was obstructed by cloud and the canopy above.

The girl’s face was covered in streaks of dirt and she’d been slapped and scratched several times by low hanging branches and pine needles. Though her cheeks were gaunt and her body was overall unhealthily thin in the half-light she actually seemed pretty.

“So… Wh-who are you?”

She sat herself down for a moment on a rock beside the stream and moved her thin and brittle brown hair off her face, her pupils narrowed into slits as they accustomed to the dark and she eyed Ciel hungrily.

If only he could have seen better…

She smirked, “You can call me Lilith.”

She held her hand out and met Ciel’s eye.

Feeling dishevelled and flustered, as well as indebted, Ciel wiped his right hand on his torn and filthy trousers before extending it to meet hers.

Her fingers were cold to the touch and he could barely make out her friendly grin as they shook hands.

“C-Ciel Phantomhive, pleased to meet you, under the circumstances.” he said raggedly.

She opened her eyes in interest, as she asked “Oh… You’re a lord are you not?”

Ciel withdrew his hand and nodded, “Yes… I, uh I am.”

She stood and curtseyed, and then she laughed, “I never been able to do that for real before…”

Ciel shook his head, “How have you come to know me by name?”

She nodded and her face became plain as she answered quickly and matter-of-factly; “The guards, they mentioned you at length.”

‘Right, of course…’

Reminded of his captors the young lord began to boil with anger, “Who are those bastards? Especially that man… with the slicked hair? Who is he? A-and that castle?”

She nodded, and held her hand out to him, “I’ll explain as we walk. I hear the dogs.”

Ciel furrowed his brow and was about to protest when in the distance behind them the deep bellowing growls and barks of hunting hounds echoed through the thick woods.

…

Doing her best to lead a path along the edge of the stream and uphill Ciel listened as Lilith quietly provided him some answers.

“Much like you I don’t remember much of how I was taken… I too was with companions at the time; my _friends_. Yet I woke up in the back of a cart being drawn towards this _damnable_ castle…”

Her voice quivered and she tightened her grip on Ciel’s hand before apologising, “S-sorry… Anyway, the men… they’re of a cult of some kind…”

Ciel’s eyes widened in the darkness and his chest tightened. A flash of memory made the brand and scars on his body burn with familiarity.

‘A cult…’ he repeated.

Memories of his own maddening screaming came to him as he saw black tendrils come from… come from _beyond_.

Her voice tore him from his memory as she continued, “They’ve been at this for a while… I…” she exhaled wearily, “I don’t know how long they’ve held me.”

She laughed hollowly, “This is my second escape… but I don’t intend to go back. My mistake the first time was to do it during the day, when they had the most members and could easily see me.”

She nodded, “The man with the hair and… and those revolting teeth. I’ve never heard his name; but he’s only ever referred to as the Wurm.”

She laughed lowly, “Bet he’s right raw that I stole you away from his clutches.”

Ciel felt a compulsion to thank his heroine again, “For which I am eternally grateful… I swear as soon as I get back to England I’ll help you back in any way I can.”

She slowed in her step and turned her head as she walked.

Her face was lightened by silver streaks of the hunter’s moon.

Her eyes rose and her lip quivered, “Y-you would?”

Ciel shook his head incredulously, “Of course!” he whispered.

“I’ll help get you back to your family, I’ll even see about a stipend for this… I’ll be indebted to you for the rest of my life.”

She smiled and her eyes creased at the corners, “I don’t know what to say…”

They paused and she lowered her head for a moment.

Barking behind them rose louder and she snapped to, “Well enough of that! We’re not out yet!”

Ciel looked behind and could see the faintest glimmers of torchlight.

He nodded as he turned back and Lilith led onwards, “Right!” he agreed.

“When I first escaped I made note of some monastery ruins at the edge of the wood, and the head of this stream.”

Ciel nodded, “I hope to god this is that very stream.”

She smirked, “As do I…” she whispered.

Ciel stifled a cough as they forded the water, doing their best to try and mask their scent.

“But… wouldn’t they check the ruins for us? If this cult has as many men as I wager they do, they’ll be able to search the whole of the castle’s demesne for us.”

Lilith grunted as she stepped over some gnarled roots and rocks with her bare feet, “There are catacombs in the monastery, even priest-holes.”

She quieted her whisper and quickened her pace, “They’ll not find us if we’re quiet and you follow my every word.”

Ciel was doing his best to stifle his panting, but his lungs continued to dog him.

Shaking his head he couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of ‘the queen’s guard dog’ running from… well, literal guard dogs.

…

When they reached the end of the stream they were at the base of a hill, and Ciel couldn’t see five yards in front of him.

“We’re here.” Lilith announced.

She helped guide Ciel forwards until they were against a tall, old, stone wall.

“H-how can you see?” he asked.

Running her left hand along the stones she slowly led Ciel around the edge of the monastery’s ruined outer wall.

“My cell is almost always in darkness… I grew quite accustomed to it.”

Ciel nodded, but he still felt uneasy.

Maybe it was the exhaustion… the night… the air…

Whatever it was his body, and his contract covered eye, ached.

“This is the gate.” She quietly announced.

Ciel furrowed his brow and was trying desperately to see through the murky pitch of the night.

“A-are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, trying his best to mirror the volume of her voice.

She smiled and leaned her head towards his left ear and neck. He only noticed she was so close when she responded in an unnerving voice; “ _Positive._ ”

He shuddered as she recoiled and continued forwards through the decrepit and ruined gatehouse.

“You’ll need to be very careful, and only step where I step.”

Ciel scoffed involuntarily as he spat “How? I can’t even see!”

His voice betrayed his nervousness and his terror.

Despite her having led him away from the cultists, and despite her firm confident grip, he couldn’t help but feel consumed by fear.

She cooed, “Don’t worry; there’s a small oil-lamp just over here.”

Ciel’s mind was swimming, ‘Something’s wrong…’

She led him along the inside of the monastery’s curtainwall until they reached a ruined cloister and some rain-worn stone steps.

“Be very quiet… I think I can hear the dogs.”

Ciel looked behind them, but in the darkness there was very little for him to be able to distinguish back from front.

“You may crouch if you’d like…”

The sounds of her footfalls were no longer soft and grassy, and her voice physically lowered as she stepped down into the catacomb.

“I must let go to light the lamp, you’ll have to trust me Lord Phantomhive.”

Ciel felt the cold wind rising from the deep stone chamber in front of him and he shivered.

“F-fine…” he replied curtly.

He lowered himself to sit on the first step and he rubbed his hands against his biceps as Lilith struck flint against the step.

‘She must have planned this a hundred times before finally escaping…’

He thought he could make out her shape in front of him as the sparks and stone collided.

‘I only hope I would have been as resolute as her…’

A dim light finally came forth in the gloom from a rusted and dented hand-held oil lamp.

Lilith beamed a smirk of satisfaction as she looked up at Ciel and he nodded, “W-well done…”

She extended her right hand again and this time she didn’t wait for him to meet it, she grabbed his with a sudden sense of urgency and turned to plunge on into the gloom of the low ceilinged catacombs.

The walls seemed to absorb the light, and the reflected tongues of orange-blue flame danced evilly across the cobbles.

“Any alcove will do I imagine…” she said hollowly.

Her voice echoed for a spell before it was met with a cool breeze of air in response. The smell was musty… filled with the old scent of rotten wood and moss.

Water dripped from overhead beams of exposed wood, or the brick Roman-style arches. It collected in puddles under their feet as they stepped along down the narrow passage.

Lilith stepped through the puddles seemingly unaffected by their depth or the shock of their temperature. Ciel danced his feet around them, doing his best to avoid soaking his shoes further.

The wind howled past them and she stopped abruptly.

It was so suddenly cold that Ciel found himself thankful to be so small as to fit in Lilith’s shadow. She diffused the brunt of the air, but it still spidered and flicked its chill tendrils around his exposed flesh.

He shivered involuntarily and she looked over her shoulder with a smirk, “Are you both cold and a feared master Phantomhive?”

He held his chattering bottom jaw and nodded, “Would you think any less of me to say that I was?”

She chuckled once, “Not in the _least_.”

Her voice was almost mocking and Ciel raised his brow, ‘Rude girl… though… hang on Ciel I wager you’d be callous if you were locked up as she was too…’

Lilith stopped when they reached a junction and she looked from either side.

“Your choice master Phantomhive: right or left?”

Ciel looked down either option.

To their left was a cracked wall with a hole large enough to crawl into while down their right was more vaulted hallway.

And so it was with haughty regard for his cleanliness that Ciel consigned his own fate.

“Right.” He responded breathily.

Lilith’s smile grew in the lamplight and she turned and led on, _“As you wish”_

Ciel nearly tripped over an uneven stone as he furrowed his brow in confusion.

‘That’s… something’s certainly not right…’

After a few yards of the hall the girl pointed into one of the vaulted alcoves to the side.

“Here seems out of the way enough.” She whispered approvingly. Letting go of Ciel’s hand he noticed that his skin was pale and devoid of feeling for having been in her grip for so long.

Wiping a spot of stone she lay the lamp down carefully and then sat with her back leaning against the curving wall.

She smiled and bid Ciel join her.

But it wasn’t right…

His mind began to scream at him as he looked at her face and studied it uneasily.

His heart began to pound. His voice and throat were dry as he voiced his maddened question, “How did you know about the lamp…”

Her mouth curled in disappointment and she folded her arms.

“You’re no fun…”

For the first time Ciel noticed the brands on her hands and he quailed.

Her flesh was reddened and black around deeply burned circular symbols. Inside each was a perverted caduceus, and pierced through it was could only be described as an ankh.

He knew it by sight… it wasn’t a coincidence.

It couldn’t be…

The Ankh was new but… the snakes, the curvature of the branding iron… It was the same as his.

Instinctively he reached with his right hand towards his left side.

He cringed and let out a moan of pain.

Just as it was when it had first happened, his brand began to burn.

Lilith raised an eyebrow and looked at the backs of her hands. “Oh these?” she exclaimed.

“Ha yes. I didn’t exactly approve but of course, _Wurm insisted…_ ” she giggled absentmindedly and looked at Ciel as she cocked her head.

“What’s wrong master Phantomhive?”

Ciel furrowed his brow and his hands shook as his legs tensed.

Her pupils narrowed and widened for a brief moment and Ciel recoiled from her and the alcove, jumping backwards with a howl of fear.

“They’ll be along shortly…”

Her voice was like nails across steel.

Ciel shook his head and continued to back away.

She smirked in disbelief and began to rise from her seat, “Don’t you hear the dogs?”

Ciel turned his head and looked down the direction they had come from as distant barks began to grow louder and clearer.

“W-why?!” he cried.

Lilith stood and extended her hand to him.

“Please my lord… we’ve gone to great lengths to meet.”

She bared her teeth and began laughing.

Ciel’s shoulders began to shake violently and he let loose a mad wail as he sprinted headlong down the hall.

Lilith’s laughter began to rise in volume and intensity as the shouts and coordination of men began to spring out of every alcove of the catacombs.

Braziers lit and came to life along the sides of the halls as Ciel sprinted as fast as his body could take him.

 _‘No! no no no no no no no!’_ he thought and screamed.

Masked and hooded figures began to step from between the stones and out of the shadows.

He brought his hands to either side of his head and began screaming as he barreled forwards towards an elaborately carved stone door.

As his shoes slapped down the stone he splashed through puddles and neared the door, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.

The door began to part and with the dogs barking and the mumbling figures behind him seemingly spurring him on Ciel leapt through the threshold with a loud cry.

He made it only a few steps into the room before stopping.

Before him sat a broad stone altar, its construction was crude and worn and it had obviously been hewn from the earth centuries before.

Illuminating the room and surrounding the altar in concentric circles were hundreds of candles.

He began shivering madly as Lilith stood up from behind the altar.

“What’s wrong?” she asked with a tilted head.

“Do you not like our castle?” her face drooped and she feigned to be hurt. “Yet we prepared it _at such great expense_.”

Ciel began screaming and tried to fight as the masked men surrounded him and began lunging at him.

He threw out his fists for purchase, scratching, biting, screaming, kicking, and swearing.

He lost all sense of reason and fought with the ferocity of a rabid beast.

_‘No! Sebastian… SEBASTIAN!’_

…


	3. Defilement

Once a Lamb

Chapter 3: Defilement

Ciel’s head swam as he hung from chains above him.

After fighting against his captors as brutally and desperately as he could he received a single swift blow to the back of his head and it all went black.

From then he awoke intermittently, at one point he was being carried, another dragged, eventually he came to consciousness with a shock.

A bucket of water splashed him and made him yell loudly in surprise.

That was when he realised…

He’d been stripped nude.

Looking down at his body he beheld his dripping abdomen and thin ribs. His weak muscles twitched from his earlier combat and attempt at flight.

He shivered and whimpered as the water flowed down his brow and face.

Looking towards his waist he saw that he was actually not completely devoid of clothing…

Yet the sight of what had been put on him made him shudder and almost prefer to have been stripped bare instead.

A thin, almost Roman-like, leather sewn undergarment was wrapped around him. The underside was so closely drawn against him that he could see the bulge of his manhood pressing through the dark.

Sputtering he spat the water off his lips and tried blinking as he called out futilely, “Sebastian! _S-Sebastian_!”

A laugh responded behind him and he shook his head to try and see who was there.

Lilith stepped into view and extended her hand to run her fingers along the side of his face and jaw. When her cold flesh left his she flicked the water off her finger tips with indifference.

Though his body felt weak Ciel recoiled from the revolting touch, and he desired only to see her burn…

Her hair was combed off her face and her skin had been cleaned. But more striking than that was _her_ attire:

She had on a tight leather corset which neglected to cover her breasts and instead cupped them from underneath.

Her pale flesh contrasted with the darkness of the material so severely her skin appeared almost white, with blue veins faintly showing through her breasts, neck, and arms.

_White as snow…_

She had on a leather thong, similar to Ciel’s, which barely covered her womanhood; it came up from between her legs and dug tightly into her supple and most sensitive skin. Involuntarily Ciel’s eyes widened to see the most erotic hinting of her vagina.

He shook his head and tightly shut his eyes.

So surprised by her manner of dress when he opened again he had to dart his eyes away, spitting in defiance to his side.

Around her waist was a thin garter belt and long clips which led, and attached, to the tops of thigh-height boots.

“The little dog… caught again…”

She pointed to Ciel’s left side and then his eye.

“Hiding secrets were we?”

Shivering from the cool air across his skin the young lord shot her a look of disdain and grit his teeth so hard he thought they were going to shatter.

Cocking her head to the side and smiling she stepped backwards, and took up a mocking tone.

“No matter…”

Looking anywhere but at her Ciel made a brief study of the chamber.

They weren’t in the altar room that he had lost consciousness in; instead they must have been in some dungeon cell of the ancient castle. Yet despite the age of the ruins, the room had been refurbished; the colour of newer stones and concrete patch work told him as much.

The shackles which were affixing him still in the centre descended from a wooden apparatus, its planks and boards freshly cut and nailed.

He looked around only as much as he dared before bringing his gaze back to his deceiving captor.

Ahead, behind Lilith, the wall was plain except for two wooden beams which helped to shoulder the weight of the ceiling and castle above. Iron wrought torch sconces had been nailed to the centre of each of these beams, and bathed the room in tongues of their fire-light.

Behind him he heard the heavy clicking and movement of a door opening and he fearfully craned his neck to look over his shoulder.

A figure entered wearing thick robes and a purple beaked masque.

Ciel froze as soon as he beheld the ‘face’.

_‘No…’_

He screamed and began pulling at his chains as he screamed madly, “NO!”

Lilith smiled and stepped to the side to intercept the servant.

“Be still _dog_ , it’s rude to bark at guests.”

She leaned forwards and the cloaked servant whispered into her ear.

Ciel’s neck tightened and he groaned as he had to move his head.

Lilith sighed and nodded as the servant departed.

Slinking up to the young lord’s other side she whispered into his ear, _“I’ll be back My-Lord”_

Ciel shivered and cried out as he struggled against the chains and cuffs again.

Lilith click-clacked out of the room along with the servant but there sounded like a moment before the door closed, as if something interrupted them as they left.

…

Breathing steadily in the room Ciel drooped and took a break from tugging at his chains.

Though the cuffs around his wrists were padded he could feel the beginning of scrapes forming and he instead began to think about another way to escape.

He swore and mumbled under his breath, occasionally yelling in frustration. _Like a trapped animal._

‘I really am like a dog aren’t I?’

“Curse them all…”

“Damn them all!”

Raising his head and staring at the rock ceiling he cried, “ _Why aren’t you here Sebastian?!”_

He exhaled and noticed that there was breathing behind him.

His eyes widened and he straightened nervously.

He shivered and his chest tightened as he got enough courage to speak into the darkness.

“W-who’s there?”

For the moment he hoped that the second breaths were coming from an echo of his own and the delirium of the evening.

The seconds drew out tensely and painfully.

And then he heard heels on the stone.

Slowly the figure behind him circled around and into view.

It was a slender, in a robe identical to the first cultist he saw, and like them they were wearing a coloured Venetian masque.

Her lips were coloured with rouge and her skin had been lightly powdered.

“Who are you?” Ciel demanded.

The woman brought her thin and delicate looking hands to either side of her hood. Pulling it down it revealed dark blonde, plainly combed hair.

She smiled and Ciel felt uneasy at the flash of her teeth.

The masque was light purple and dark blue, in a harlequin patch-work pattern.

Ciel was suspended so that just the balls of his feet and tips of his toes were touching the ground and he struggled to step himself back from her.

She began rolling her shoulders and moving her head and arms with fluidity, like she was a ballet dancer.

Shaking his head he shuddered, “What? W-who are you?!”

She extended her hand towards his face and he clambered backwards.

“Don’t, don’t _bloody touch me!_ ” He screamed.

Holding his chin with her hand she closed her eyes and glided towards his face.

_“Stop it!”_

Pressing her lips to his she kissed and smocked her mouth as Ciel struggled and tried to move away, protesting and thrashing.

_‘G-get off me! Y-you c-crea gah!’_

Her hands wrapped around his head and held him in place as she continued to kiss and press her lips to his face.

Ciel began hyperventilating and struggling to breathe as she continued her barrage. Smearing her rouge she smiled and began running her hands down his neck.

Struggling to maintain his breath the woman continued to kiss his skin, even as he thrashed around and shook his head.

“Stop!” he cried, his tone was so high pitched and his voice so weak he shuddered that he was so helpless.

Surprising him even more than his voice was the fact that she did…

Stepping away from him he began panting and trying to regain his breath. He hoped, vainly, that she was actually penitent and was going to help.

“Let me go… let me-“

She began pulling at her robe from her shoulders until it loosened.

‘She’s… she’s mad…’

Ciel’s eyes widened as the robe fell around her feet and revealed her undergarments.

Thin black strips covered her body, in a strange design that Ciel could only place as some kind of French burlesque costume… Yet the thinness of the material was such that he knew that even the Parisians would have found it too scandalous.

He shuddered and shook, “W-what are you doing?!”

She stepped out of the robe around her feet and began cupping her breasts in display.

The young man blinked furiously and looked away, “What on earth are you doing!?”

She pursed her lips in disappointment and cocked her head.

Silently she stepped forwards and began kissing along Ciel’s belly.

Her lips were warm and after every few pecks she’d make a wet circle with her tongue.

The lord quivered and tried moving as much as his bonds would allow.

“Stop it! I command you to stop it now!”

The door opened behind him and he heard familiar laughter as Lilith entered accompanied by other footfalls.

“Hear that? The dog-turned-lamb issues _commands!_ ”

She laughed as she came around his side and into view.

Hands began running along his sides as the blonde continued to kiss and lick his abdomen and chest.

“Curse you!” he spat.

His body shivered as he felt yet another mouth begin kissing along his back.

“STOP!” he cried.

Behind him he felt the presence of another person and quickly two hands came around his head and planted themselves over his mouth.

Their grip was like iron and Ciel struggled under the embrace of the three cultists.

Lilith leaned against the left support beam and smiled sadistically as she watched.

“Oh… if only you could see yourself my lord… Red-lipped and wriggling as you are.”

She exhaled happily, “I may as well tell you now, but we shall enjoy you this way for as long as we may.” She cooed, “Until we’ve had our fill…”

She cocked an eyebrow and nodded, “You can partake as well if you’d like!”

Ciel muffled a protest in response and she giggled, “Though I suspect you’ll be adamant till the end.”

The kisses along his flesh grew in intensity as the women against him began to enjoy themselves more and more.

Occasionally their licks would become punctuated by a light bite, or the dragging of their teeth across his skin.

He yelped at the shock of the first few bites and whimpered as their tongues began drawing lines up and down his front and back.

Eventually the woman at his front began licking and standing as she made her way towards his chest.

At first he thought she had bit him but he realised that she was actually sucking. She pressed her mouth around his left nipple and began drawing as hard as she could at his pink areola.

He shook his head and protested against the hands across his mouth as she began sucking at his skin in a rhythm.

The tongue at his back came away and the owner touched their hands along his side as they came into view. The robed figure wore a masque that was an inversion of the first cultist’s, light blue on dark purple.

Just like the woman they had rouge on their lips, and the face that he could see was flawlessly beautiful.

Ciel’s eyes widened as the figure began to disrobe as well.

Underneath was voluptuous woman, her body was almost identical to the first woman except her breasts were shapelier and her skin was a little darker in shade. She had to have been related to the woman currently at his skin, they looked just far too alike to be a coincidence.

Unlike her sister the cultist’s hair was cut shorter with a thick fringe brushed to the right and over her ear.

Unlike the other woman she was wearing a single pieced article of clothing; beginning tightly around her waist, were a thong and the lower part of a bodice, it looked similar to what Lilith had on, but was of the same material and thinness as her sister’s.

Looking up the woman’s body the lord Phantomhive met her gaze and shuddered.

Through the narrow slits of the masque Ciel could see bright green eyes flash at him with ravenous lust, her expression, her hair colour, even the cut of her chin was eerily similar to that of the other woman currently licking and biting at his nipple. There could be no mistake, they were related…

Lilith cooed and exhaled heavily, “Oh my goodness… Aren’t they just wonderful to watch Ciel?”

The newly appeared sister knelt forwards and playfully brushed her shoulder against the first as she began kissing a line up Ciel’s abdomen and towards his right nipple.

With a loud smock she joined her twin in torturing the Earl’s body.

He shook his head and glared at Lilith.

She merely smiled in response.

The twins held their eyes shut in bliss as they licked and prodded his flesh with their tongues.

Running their hands along Ciel’s sides they danced their thin, warm, fingertips across his skin, causing him to shiver and shake.

The woman to his left began bringing her right hand down Ciel’s abdomen and she touched her sister with her shoulder, giggling encouragement that she was to follow suit.

Acting as one the twins brought right and left hands towards Ciel’s waist.

The lord easily extrapolated what they were intent on and he began fighting as much as he could. Bucking and kicking his legs as he screamed under the hands across his mouth.

Lilith’s voice boomed in Latin and the twins immediately rose away from their prisoner’s flesh.

They eyed each other and then Ciel with disappointment, the first woman whimpered and her sister consoled her as they shook their heads. Reluctantly they stepped out of the Phantomhive’s view and outside of the room.

Cool air found every wet patch of saliva along Ciel’s skin and he finally felt the hands come away from his mouth.

Eyeing Lilith with hatred he began a stream of vitriol but was immediately silenced with a punch to the right side of his ribcage.

The figure which had held his mouth closed came into view and Ciel saw that it was the man who had initially greeted him at the gates.

_Wurm_.

The man exhaled wearily, “I apologise my lord but… if you insist on spurning our pleasures then we must ply some salt instead of sugar.”

Wurm brought his hand forwards as he hit and winded Ciel again.

Spitting and coughing Ciel croaked in pain.

Lilith laughed and paced from side to side watching as Wurm began battering Ciel’s lower chest and abdomen.

“ _Salt and sugar…_ An apt strategy, wouldn’t you agree my lord?” she asked mockingly.

…

Wurm’s attacks had left welts and bruises all over Ciel’s body and his lip swelled from an overzealous punch.

Lilith scolded her servant with a strike of her own, punctuating it by saying; ‘I wanted his face unmolested you brute cur!’

Wurm apologised for his bloodlust and Ciel wearily gave in to the darkness and the reprieve that their argument allowed.

Like a nursery rhyme his sleep was sung to by the repeating refrain: ‘Salt and sugar, sugar and salt, which to choose and which to malt!’

…

Softness brought him awake and Ciel parted his eyelids to search the room for its source.

A hand was caressing his face with a wet cloth, and he saw the familiar grotesque masque and shuddered; one of the women from before was wiping his bruises.

Her voice was like velvet and she smiled.

“Please my lord… don’t fight us.”

His body felt numb and he felt warmth from below his chest. It made him feel somewhat confused but his tired mind chalked it up to the beating that he had received.

Paying it no mind he did his best to glare back at the woman.

She pursed her lips in disappointment.

“Where we rejoice in sugar you must understand… Wurm’s desires are only those of _salt_.”

“It’s nothing for it my lord…” she pleaded. Discarding the wet cloth to the floor she rubbed the back of her hand against Ciel’s cheek.

“In your slumber we’ve tended to your wounds… But,” she smiled widely and shook her head, “You are the _real Ciel Phantomhive!_ ”

She giggled, “It’s so…” she darted her eyes low and sighed pleasantly, “ _wonderful_ ”

Lazily moving his head from the left to the right Ciel tried to keep his eyes on her but the strange warmth in his lower body was irritating him immensely.

She lowered to her knees and exclaimed, “Stop hogging him to yourself!”

Following her down with his eyes Ciel saw with horror that the sister from earlier had her lips wrapped around Ciel’s body.

His eyes darted open as wide as possible and he shook his head weakly as his dry throat cracked and words failed to exit.

The woman at his flesh began making her noises louder as a way of teasing the standing sister and she grew red in the face at the muffled moans.

Ciel mind began to catch up to his body and the warmth which his nerves had initially registered began to increase in detail and intensity.

Hot contact along the length of his penis began to make his legs twitch and his toes curl involuntarily.

His weak neck and dry throat attempted to vocalise protest once more, and he managed a weak ‘ _no_ ’ as the woman standing pushed her sister away from Ciel’s manhood.

With an audible ‘pop’ the head of his penis came free of the girl’s pink mouth.

The shaft of the semi-erect member was coated in saliva and smeared rouge.

“No fair…” she whined.

Eyeing her prize ravenously the first sister opened her mouth widely before descending onto the dripping cock.

Ciel shuddered and he squealed “ _N-noooaaahhh_!” as she began sucking and licking her tongue along the length of the sensitive skin.

‘No! I… _No! I don’t like this! I n-no!’_ he thought weakly.

‘Too tired, fuck… No, no _NO!’_

Ciel tried moving and resisting but the beating from Wurm and the struggling he’d done so far had made his body so pliant and weak he couldn’t help but feel the terrifying inclination to resign his body to them.

The woman watched her sister, panting and biting her red-smeared lips as she licked and kissed her way up and down lord Phantomhive’s ‘manhood’.

She paused and they smiled at one another before looking up at their captive.

“Sugar’s far better than salt, is it not Blue?” she giggled and the other sister nodded while exhaling heavily, “I certainly agree Purple…”

The two kissed one another before Purple stood back up.

“We’ll win you over my lord!” she exclaimed, “Surely!”

Blue adjusted her masque and let out a sigh in agreement.

The woman brought her hands around Ciel’s head and easily pulled him into a perverse embrace.

Devoid of energy to resist the young Earl resented how compliant his body had become since falling asleep.

Drawing him against her chest he tried to avoid the contact but she cooed and pressed his face betwixt her breasts.

_‘That smell… water-lilies and lavender?’_

Her skin was as plush and soft as warm water and she pressed him so that his nose had no option but to breathe her in.

‘It’s so… _pleasant…’_ his inner voice shuddered and he drew upon the shock of his own admission to resist.

‘No! You fool! S-stop breathing it in!’

“Oh my lord, she cooed. May I?” she lifted him away from her skin and brought her face close to his as she puffed out her lips.

Though she had asked him, she had no intention of slowing and forcefully pressed her lips to his. Kissing him loudly and running her tongue across his mouth Ciel quivered at how easily she pried open his lips with her tongue.

She shut her eyes and began moaning through the kiss as she tentatively touched her tongue to his teeth.

Breaking off the kiss Ciel’s eyes twitched heavily as he saw strands of saliva still connecting his mouth to hers.

‘No… s-stop…’ he shivered.

“Sister…” she spoke.

Looking down she smiled, “I think we’re letting him down…”

Pouting Blue began touching Ciel’s leg as she whined, “Oh no!”

She nodded, “You must enjoy the things in life which are sweetest! Allow us my lord…”

‘Not a chance…’ Ciel mentally whispered, ‘never, never, _a thousand times never!’_

The first thing he felt was the resumption of warmth around his body, but this time the mouth connecting to his shaft was accompanied by a loud moan of pleasure as Blue enjoyed herself with his warm cock.

Purple began her second attack with her tongue and kissed him loudly as her earlier apprehension was replaced with ferocious exploration.

Her tongue slithered along his and began curling around it. As if she was fighting it for dominance of his mouth.

Ciel shivered and weakly twitched as his body’s nerves betrayed him.

_‘Never! N-no! Enough I… I will not y-yield…’_

Both twins began slurping and kissing, sucking and loudly moaning as they tasted and worked at their unceasing barrage of lust.

Licentious, evil, thoughts clouded Ciel’s mind. But he remained as strong willed as he could.

_‘Sugar… S-sugar…’_ he began to hear.

Behind him he barely heard the footfalls of his chief captor.

“How is he?” Lilith asked.

Ciel’s eyelids were so heavy he barely was able to keep them open as the fluttered and his body shook from waves of involuntary, torturous, pleasure.

Breaking off her wet, French kiss, Purple smiled, “Oh… _divine_ mistress!”

With a loud wet ‘slorp’ and pop Blue’s high pitched voice repeated dumbly, “ _Divine…_ ”

Lilith smiled.

“Have you had your fill yet?”

The two cultists looked at each other with utter disappointment, “N-no mistress we… we were just getting into it…”

Ciel’s head heavily fell forwards and he panted weakly as he hung from his bonds.

He no longer hand the strength in his feet to keep himself up, and he swayed just a little above the stone floor.

Lilith groaned wearily, “Oh… that’s unfortunate…” she brought her hand across her breast and flicked at her nipple.

“I was hoping to make use of him myself.”

The cultist siblings looked to each other and exhaled.

Rising from her knees Blue’s voice mirrored her sister as she pleaded, “Please mistress! Allow us t-to join!”

Lilith smirked and looked at Purple before stepping forwards.

Spit and red-tinted drool glimmered in wet spots around Ciel’s body.

_“I think not.”_

They pouted but held their tongues as they looked at their mistress.

“Bring him to my chamber, I seek to enjoy this _alone._ ”

With reluctant nods the sisters bowed their heads and began unshackling Ciel from his bonds.

He whimpered wearily and his head hung lazily as the sisters easily carried him out of the room. His eyelids fluttered and he revolved between unconsciousness and a hazy level of awareness.

…

When Ciel reopened his eyes he was bound on a bed in a lavishly decorated medieval bed chambre.

Lilith strode into view along his side and she cooed loudly.

“Now my dear…” she began, “you’ll be mine, _now and forever._ ”

She extended her fingers towards Ciel’s body and began tracing circles up and down the centre of his abdomen.

He shuddered and tried moving his arms. They felt stiff and pulled, but he tried all the same.

Easily Lilith straddled his waist and held his arms down.

“Ah, ah, ah, my lord…”

She smiled and lowered towards his face.

Her unnatural eyes and straight teeth made Ciel recoil backwards as deep as he could into the bed’s material as she threatened, “Don’t make me get Wurm prematurely.”

She began a sensual chuckle that did nothing to arouse him, but did everything to terrorise him; “That shall come in due time…”

…


	4. Torture

Once a Lamb

Chapter 4: Torture

Her weight across his stomach was far heavier than her size and shape suggested.

She’d stripped her clothes in full view of Ciel in a perverse burlesque show, giggling and entertained by her own display.

After becoming nude she climbed atop him and held his arms down easily before re-shackling him to the posts of the bed with manacles.

She was also far stronger than her thin arms and feminine body would make Ciel have assumed.

“You speak Latin?” she asked as she rose back up from his face.

Ciel tried snarling but he barely had any strength left in him to do anything other than breathe heavily and keep his eyes open.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled evilly, obviously aware of his condition and lack of ability to speak. With a smirk of pride she boasted, “It was the first mortal tongue I learned.”

“And not from a member of the laity mind you.”

The brazen and mad implication of what she had said made Ciel contort his brow and exhale a sputter of fear.

She smirked, “Oh yes… I think you’re a wise enough boy to know the truth.”

Running her hands up and down the sides of his torso, touching and pinching at his flesh periodically she nodded.

“I was tutored by Gaius Cornelius Tacitus” she sighed wistfully, “now that was an _education_ …”

She sighed again, “You know many of your modern writers can never portray an accurate picture of him.”

She shook her head, “Anyway… You had a _daemonium_ of your own, did you naught? A demon?”

‘Sebastian!’ he thought weakly.

She lightened as she saw the change in his expression, “Indeed, the wonderful one who gave you that…”

Raising a hand to his face she caressed the cheek under his contract adorned eye.

Ciel tried to croak anything out, any kind of words… But all he managed was a weak cough.

Her eyes drew into slits and she smiled widely as she moved a hand behind her and towards Ciel’s crotch.

The young earl screamed in terror as her eyes changed colour and she brought herself closer to his face.

Muting his cry and silencing his mouth with a kiss she began stroking his member with her hand.

It wasn’t pleasant…

It wasn’t enjoyable…

Yet despite the weight in his chest, the hatred and fear burning in his skin, Ciel’s body reacted to her touch and stimulus without context.

His eyes widened and he tried struggling against the chains which held his arms taut.

Breaking off the kiss the daemoness cackled and lifted herself up to see behind at the young lord’s erect penis.

She drew her leg over his chest and let go of his manhood.

Resting on her knees at his side she looked over his nude, lithe, body and raised an eyebrow in satisfaction.

“Ciel Phantomhive…” she cooed.

Tracing his pale skin with her eyes she watched his shallow, panicked breaths and the rhythmic shaking that his heavy heartbeat made.

_“S-suc-succubus…”_ he whispered. His voice was full of as much spite and venom as he was able to muster.

He might not be able to fight back his bonds, or escape at the moment, his defeat-tarnished mind spat out the only thing he could think of.

She darted her eyes to his face and looked at his impotent expression; utterly powerless to stop her and cooed while she let out a hollow gloat.

“How rude…” she leant towards him and extended her tongue to run it along his cheek.

Ciel recoiled and tightly shut his eyes in revulsion as he tried to move away.

Leaving a long, wet, trail along his skin she continued, “You know, we don’t like that term. So _vulgar_ and loaded…”

Standing she walked towards an unseen table and began opening something noisily.

“Anyway, my dear Tacitus… he was so interested in the orient.” She laughed, “Many of them were I suppose… Tales of a vast eastern kingdom, beyond the fabled Indus River which withheld even the mighty Alexander…”

She brought out a silk rag and Ciel craned his neck trying to see what she was doing.

“The Romans, the Greeks… so many Europeans dreamed of the East and what lay beyond the Hindu-kush, and the mighty steppe… So few ever saw it”

Holding up a small glimmering piece of metal Ciel froze as he tried to imagine what it was.

She smiled perversely and eyed the thin needle, “I spent over half a millennia wandering… From court to court, amidst the ebbing and flowing of mighty dynasties,” she stepped forwards and shook her head as she recollected, “so many things which are practised there are made into art forms.”

She held the needle in view of Ciel, over his head and lowered her voice, “Do you know what this is?”

The young earl’s voice cracked and his eyes responded for him.

‘Acupuncture’

She grinned and began touching the thin, ice cold, steel to his flesh.

“I learned, it took long, and it was entertaining. At first I was a _very poor_ student. Languages and the trade of courtesans were far more in my nature.”

She began bringing the small needle towards Ciel’s chest.

He shuddered and tried weakly clawing at the sheets underneath for purchase.

“But…” she quieted and focused on the slow and methodical puncturing she began, “I too became a master.”

It burned like fire, and very quickly the first stabbing was followed by a second.

They were so thin that they felt like splinters and around them a circle of heat expanded under the surface of his flesh.

The stabs were evenly distributed and made symmetrical; one on the left was followed by one on the right, and on and on until she pierced a final one into the centre of his torso just below the arch of his ribcage.

He wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything, but his exhaustion kept him down, and the expert piercing of his muscles made him as limp as a boned fish.

She leaned back and surveyed her work and giggled happily.

“Oh! I almost forgot…” taking up one last needle she positioned it just below his navel.

It entered and he whimpered painfully.

It hurt more than all the others, and through his frozen numbness the noise escaped along with his breath.

“There we are…” she smirked, “now, where was I?”

Her hand resumed its touch at his manhood and a strange sensation accompanied the coolness of her fingers.

“Ah yes…”

Lowering herself alongside him she pressed her nose and face into Ciel’s neck, kissing along it and down his shoulder.

In between kisses she mumbled and spoke, “Such _sweetness_ …”

Biting him lightly she wrapped her lips around a spot of his skin and began sucking hard. Ciel groaned in pain and let out a weak whimper.

With a pop her lips left his flesh and she chuckled satisfactorily at the red ‘hickie’ she’d left.

“You’re mine now…” she giggled and tightened her grip around his shaft as she began a more steady pumping.

The air had made his cock dry and by now the sensation of her hand against it was quickly becoming a torture of its own, greater than the molestation already was.

She lowered herself towards his groin, and the whole while she kissed wet lines along his skin.

Licking around his abs and in between her needles, Ciel began shivering and letting out short breaths and protest.

Savouring the tang and coppery taste of his blood dribbling out the sides of the thin needles she cooed before letting go of his member. From her teasing, and from the nerves she’d pierced it stood on its own, painfully erect.

They locked eyes and she brought her hands to rub up his chest and pectorals, weaving a mad trail in and through the dozen or so steel needles embedded into his skin.

“Fear not Ciel… _you’re my most prized possession_ …”

When her face reached his twitching penis he shook his head from side to side and arched his head backwards, yelling a weak ‘No!’

Closing her eyes and cooing she extended her tongue and guided her lips around the tip of his cock.

Licking and caressing him with the warm inside of her mouth she moaned and the noise vibrated into his body.

…

It was minutes of torture, and no way to do anything against her…

She licked, kissed, and enveloped him in a never-ceasing barrage of oral attacks. Slurping and gagging herself, the daemoness moaned shamelessly and plied all the skills of her dark and immortal station.

Ciel’s eyes fluttered and his head fell to the side, heavy and devoid of energy.

‘J-just lie there… m-maybe she’ll stop… it’s – Sebastian will s-ave… she’ll…’

His mind was saddled with her infection and evil control.

She’d made him into a doll, as well as a pincushion, for the moment…

He felt almost asleep, yet was aware of his surroundings and the feelings happening to his body.

It didn’t feel _good_ in that he was enjoying it… But it felt _amazing_ in what it was doing to his nerves. Yet he was fighting it, with every fibre in his being he was fighting it…

Popping from her mouth she finally released his member from her sadistic lips.

He let out a heavy breath of reprieve and darted his eyes to see her.

She cooed and extended a hand to grip his chin and re-position his head.

“I don’t want you to miss this…” she smiled, it was almost an innocent, genuine expression, but Ciel quailed with fear.

She rose and straddled him, her hands took hold of his shaft and he looked up, helpless, as he watched what she was about to do.

Positioning his fully erect and engorged head between her glistening lips she looked up and locked eyes with her prey as she began a painfully slow descent.

Ciel’s gaze darted up and down, looking from her daemonic eyes and then at the womanhood which was poised and beginning to envelop him.

‘T-that’s not for _you!_ A voice in his mind called.’ Innocently he complained, ‘Lizzy… I-I’m _sorry_ …’

Like a fire across his body he began to feel slithering warmth enter him as Lilith began taking him within her.

Letting go of his member he watched as his shaft began to disappear between her legs, enveloped and warmly taken hostage by her.

Arching her back and slowly coming to rest across his legs Lilith cooed and moaned as she relished the feeling of his whole penis within her.

Her thighs made contact with his and Ciel realised that it was done… He’d entered her totally.

She let out a cackle-moan and brought her head back to look down at him. Her hair fell down across her face and she moved it away from her eyes as she whispered, “Oh… _my lord…_ what a feeling you’ve with-held from your betrothed…”

She smiled.

“What a shame that you’ve not let any woman enjoy this before…” she lowered and began moving her hips.

Ciel shuddered and shook as his nerves swelled with sensation and pleasure.

“Yet how fitting… _that you’re all to be mine.”_

He let out a loud stifled wail and she responded by increasing the rhythm of her hips.

What at first began as a cry of utter defeat and humiliation became perverted with a moan as Ciel’s body betrayed him and his mind frayed with the intoxicating sensation of sex.

Scratching her hands along his thin chest and perversely knocking the needles to either side she would flick them periodically.

The vibrating metal needles sent shivers and shocks of pain and nervous sensation as Lilith began driving herself up and down with heavy and wet slaps, punctuating each few collisions with a moan or an exclamation in a foreign tongue.

Ciel’s body couldn’t put up any resistance even though his mind and soul wanted nothing to with it…

He began a low moan in time with hers and Lilith’s’ face upon seeing his compliance was one of horrifying ecstasy.

She brought her hands to the sides of his head and held him tightly as she began rotating her hips and tightening herself around him.

With a laugh and groan she screamed, _“Yes! Yes! YES!”_

Ciel shut his eyes and his mouth opened as she continued to slap herself against him.

She brought herself down and began kissing him furiously, digging her nails into his skin as her words became more and more maddened.

“give it to me… _give it to me! Give it!”_

Ciel shivered violently and his eyes rolled back. He shut them as hard as he could hoping for some glimmer of mercy as his body tightened and his muscles tensed even more.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and let out a triumphant wail as she shivered and her body orgasmed in tune with his, “YES!”

A tension released in Ciel’s groin and he twitched as his member spurt and let his warm seed out and into her.

Watching his involuntary thrusts with eager joy Lilith cooed and stroked at his messy hair, enjoying the warmth of their bodies connecting, and the satisfaction of her victory she exhaled steadily.

Spent and daemonically exhausted Ciel’s eyes remained shut and he thought that her riding was what had killed him.

He hyperventilated and his stomach churned with fear and panic as she lowered and kissed at him, cooing and moaning at the feeling of his member still deeply within her. With her teeth she’d kiss at the base of a needle and then pull it up and out of his skin.

Letting it fall from her mouth off the side of the bed with a shrill clang against the cobble.

It hurt far more to have them removed than it did for her to have put them there… Especially with the way she was drawing them from his body.

Biting down around the steel, she’d occasionally catch some of his skin and pinch it as she pulled the steel up and out of him.

‘I… this is how I die… I… I’m sor… n-no.’

With a ragged shallow breath Ciel finally lost consciousness in the evil, ‘loving’ embrace of the daemoness, his blood forming warm pools around each pin-prick. And as the darkness claimed him he could only hear her low cackling, and fear set its icy fingers into his heart.

…

Little did he know that the _sugar_ of Lilith’s embrace would be nothing compared to the _salt_ of Wurm…

…

Waking up seated at first Ciel couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or if he was indeed awake.

Like a dream his body felt weightless and his surroundings passed by, almost as if time had slowed, and he fell. But in an instant he received his answer.

Unlike a dream the water was as real as anything and his body screamed, taking in huge gulps of icy cold water as he tried to let out any kind of sound.

When he rose back out of the pool he looked to see that he was no longer in Lilith’s bedchamber, and instead he now had an audience.

Several cultists, in their robes and grotesque masques stood and were watching him.

He was bound to a chair, and as he looked down he saw that there was a deep pool below him and it was getting closer…

The whole while he was coughing and sputtering trying to get a full breath as he was forced under again.

Screaming at the thousand needle-like stabs across the whole of his body he was brought back out to the jubilation of the cultists.

He couldn’t count how many there were of them; his mind could barely form words from the shock.

Being brought out of the pool he shivered and was shaking violently as he coughed and wailed, _“Let me breathe!”_

His mouthfuls of water continued to agitate his lungs and he was retching and coughing as roughly and as violently as his weary muscles could do.

The weightless sensation came again and he shut his eyes tightly while doing his best to close his mouth.

The water surrounded him again and the pain returned… It was freezing, but his skin burned…

It was like fire rubbed along his flesh yet also had the bite of mid-winter.

It was pain beyond imagining and when he surfaced he let out a scream of utter madness.

Again and again he was dropped, yet each time he was no more used to the water than the time before… Some dunks were shorter than others; some were so long he sputtered and screamed under the water as his lungs weakly gave up their contents.

This went on until finally it was stopped and a figure approached him from behind.

The man from the beginning, _Wurm_ was standing there, a dread smile across his sharpened teeth.

“Now that our guest is properly cleaned… We ought to show him better hospitality?”

Hands came from his other side and Ciel was lifted from his bonds and the confines of the chair.

His skin was blue and he was so cold that he no longer shivered. His body would simply shake weakly at the dull and slowed rhythm of his heartbeat.

He was nude, save for the small leather brief which he had awoken in before.

The crowd watched with licentious eyes, but remained quiet as they followed him off the wooden dunking platform.

“My lord… as our _honoured_ guest we implore you to dine with us!”

The latter half of the sentence roused a chorus of satisfaction and pleasure from the cultists.

Ciel’s frozen frame was held up on either side by unseen figures and he stared at the floor… mind blank as he was dragged along.

His lips parted and only a low mumble of incoherence exited.

Past the crowd in the dungeon’s vast chamber sat an utterly out of place table and chair.

It was an elegant Louisan style dinner set, replete with silverware and plates, but the sight of it did nothing to arouse an appetite in Ciel.

Instead his maddened mind could only struggle to understand its placement and the possible use it might serve.

“No…” was all he managed.

It was so meek and low that neither the men holding him up nor Wurm heard him.

His pale and blueish skin quivered as he was brought closer to the chair.

‘Fight! Damn you!’ a voice cried to him, ‘ _Fight! Do it for Lizzy! Do it for yourself! You must fight!’_

Tilting his head up he looked at Wurm and ignored whatever it was the bastard was saying, with the last of his strength Ciel shivered and brought his lips into a tight circle as he spat a globule of mucous and water towards the man’s face.

The cultists holding his arms up stopped and looked at their charge in surprise, not expecting him to have had any resistance left in him.

Moving his arms up he chose a side to throw himself at and pushing off the floor with his wet feet he collided as hard as he could with the left cultist.

The man stumbled back and Ciel succeeded in toppling him.

Immediately he tried running, slapping his wet feet along the uneven stone floor as he ran towards the wall.

At first the cultists all let out a breath of tension, afraid to lose their prize.

But, watching Ciel’s pathetic movement, his slow turning, and his uncoordinated limbs, they realised he was dead already…

He sputtered and retched as he leaned against the wall for support. His face too tired to make an expression of fear as he looked back at his captors.

Wurm cleaned off his face and stepped forwards, his hand poised to strike until Lilith made her appearance known.

“Hold your hand Wurm…” she called.

Ciel slipped and fell down the wall as his legs gave out from under him and the cultists approached to pick him up once more.

“The lashing out tantrum of a beast who’s seen the knife…” she approached Wurm and slapped him.

He nodded and opened his eyes, “I am sorry my lady… I was…”

“Careless.” She finished.

Waving her servant away she pointed to the chair and ordered, “Feed him, and make him ready… The hour approaches, and I shan’t have our _gift_ not prepared for _him_.”

Wurm nodded and the cultists whispered among one another as the watched Ciel become bound and placed into the chair.

Lilith stepped into the back of the crowd as her supplicants parted for her.

Turning to his ‘guest’ Wurm nodded and two cultists held Ciel’s head and neck.

Tilting him upwards they opened his mouth and the young lord coughed and mumbled in protest. Though it was only token; Ciel’s body was nearly broken, and his muscles had no more energy in them.

Taking up a silver pitcher a female cultist brought the spout towards Ciel’s mouth and he tensed his eyes as he anticipated what was to come.

Trying as hard as he could his jaw was held open by the stiff and iron fingers of the men on either side of his chair.

Wailing and gagging he shivered as she began pouring a liquid into his open mouth.

It tasted like wine, but was far thicker… Like a dressing for a dish or dessert

Ciel could only scream in his mind as the pitcher flowed down his tongue.

He wanted to gag, to retch, to vomit… Anything to not allow such a horrible thing inside him… but as the beverage flowed past his lips and its heady scent infected his nostrils and sinuses his tongue stopped waggling, his throat opened, and his body wilfully allowed it to flow freely into his stomach.

He opened his eyes and could only watch in mute horror as the cultist smiled and poured the last of the pitcher’s contents into his waiting mouth.

When the spout was free of his lips the cultists withdrew the grip from his neck and jaw and allowed him to move.

Strangely enough he felt somewhat invigorated, but with the energy his body now shivered and he became keenly aware of every droplet of freezing water upon his flesh.

His bangs hung heavily down his face, dripping steadily onto his chest and legs as he shook and let out coughs and forced retches.

The cultist returned the silver pitcher to the table and he paled to see two more decanters of the evil liquid.

His eyes widened and he tried screaming as he moved his wrists up from where they’d been bound to the chair’s arms.

Beside him the cultists returned their strong grip and kept him still as the second silver container was brought forwards.

His mouth, held open by their fingers, struggled as he grunted and screamed; _“noh, noh, noh!”_

This liquid had a foul taste to it, and was as runny as quicksilver as it flooded his mouth.

He gargled and gagged, but it too went down.

It went like that for several more pitchers.

He felt nauseated and every interval between pouring he would yell and protest, but their force and his enthusiasm began faltering and dissipating with each one.

The people around him were intractable… They were utterly un-swayed by his protests.

And what was more, _they probably enjoyed it…_

‘I shan’t g-give them the satisfaction…’ he thought dully. ‘God… please kill them all… Sebastian… you must come… I can’t…’

…

A dull whack made him stir.

But the burning is what brought him to life.

Hanging from chains Ciel looked around and saw that he’d been brought to the first room which he had awoke in.

Hanging from the ceiling his legs were now bound as well, stretching him out in an X.

His back felt warm, but then he was struck again.

It sounded like a whip…

Hands touched his back and he felt to tingling, mind-wrenching, pain of _salt in his wounds._

The expression did the reality absolutely no justice…

And it burned so badly the only relief was with the next collision of the scourge. His skin erupted in flames and the dullness wouldn’t last.

He screamed in protest, much like the first time he was captured; he asked ‘why’, he pleaded, he tried to escape it by moving futility to a side.

But nothing was for nothing and he remained hanging with only the steady, expertly aimed whip’s barbs, to keep him company.

It drove on so long he would have happily submitted to Lilith’s tongue and acupuncture, but near the half-way point of his whipping, the burning of the salt had made his mind only a blank choir of screams and wails.

He passed out from the pain several times, only for splashes of cold salt water to wake him.

When it finally finished one of his tortures came towards him and held his catatonic face up, “All in all you’ve taken well over fifty strikes.”

Wurm chuckled, he’d shed his suit and was wearing only his trousers. His chest glistened with sweat and he was out of breath from the activity.

With a smirk he boasted, “All of us were able to have three hits on you.”

Bringing his face close to Ciel’s ear he continued, “If you have any mind left, you’ll be able to use your arithmetic to count our group’s number.”

Ciel’s eyes twitched and he let out a low moan as Wurm let go of his chin.

Turning around a cultist held out a goblet to the man and he took a drink with a sigh.

“Lilith want’s you _marked_ …” he laughed, “More than you are already.”

Turning he sipped at his drink again.

“She wishes for me to brand you.”

A flash of the first ritual shot through his mind with vivid clarity and Ciel’s chest heaved.

“Now, I’ve seen your other one.”

He smirked and handed the goblet to the masque’d cultist beside him.

“It’s good work; a very skilled hand did that.” He smiled and knelt so Ciel could see him. “So, I said to her ‘the boy’s already marked what’s the point?’”

He stood back up. “So I’ll make you a wager, my lord!”

“I shan’t brand you, or mark you _any further_ …”

Ciel’s heart fluttered and he didn’t see how obvious the lack of mercy was, he was so delirious that to him it was as if he were offered a rope as he swam in the middle of the sea.

“If! You can guess our number.”

He clapped his hands and chuckled, “You tell me how many there are of _us_ and I will forego the pleasure of branding…”

The young earl’s mind raced and struggled to function as he desperately attempted mental math.

“si…” Ciel whispered.

Wurm raised an eyebrow and turned around.

“Six…” he mumbled.

Stepping close the man had a smile wide across his sharp teeth.

“Sixteen…” drooling and barely able to keep his head up Ciel continued, “m-ayb..y mo…”

Wurm stepped forwards and lifted his chin and the earl seethed, weakly at his tormentor, demanding his prize.

Grumbling and biting his tongue Wurm stepped back.

“You’re far stronger than I thought Lord Phantomhive…”

Stepping to the side of the room he grunted as he lifted something, “And yes… you’re correct.”

Wurm slowly stepped into view and he lifted Ciel’s head up by his hair. In his hand was a red hot branding iron,

“But, _you forgot to ask if I was a liar!_ ”

Ciel let out a desperate scream as he shut his eyes.

…


	5. Sacrifice

Once a Lamb

Chapter 5: Sacrifice

After Wurm brought the iron to his flesh it burned, just like it had the first time.

It made his tears feel like poison down his cheek, his muscles curled, and everything made him want to try and escape it.

It was only a short amount of time, but the agony made it feel like an eternity.

When the iron finally came free of his skin it had left its hideous brand. His skin cracked around the edges and the flesh that wasn’t cooked began to bleed.

He was swearing and screaming for an hour until finally Wurm gave a nod that his work was going to heal properly and their guest was to come down.

Ciel cried and whimpered as he was dragged from the torture chamber of the old dungeon. As his feet dragged along the rough and uneven cobbles below he passed out for a short spell.

The lack of consciousness was a welcome reprieve and for those few moments he was pain free.

But of course he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it for long.

Two cultists were holding him up and shook him awake.

In front of him was an open door. It was heavy oak and wrought iron.

Barely lit from the hall was a cell.

As soon as he held his head up weakly the cultists nodded and threw him forwards.

Before he could raise his hands and brace his fall Ciel collided with the floor heavily and with a groan he remained on the cool stones. The cold castle cell was strewn with some straw, but they did little to insulate him from the chill against his bare skin.

…

He was left for a time…

Enough to sleep, enough to locate the cell’s ‘bucket’, Ciel hated the indignity of it, but his pain and his imprisonment was not devoid of comforts.

After the first ‘night’ of sleeping on the floor, he awoke to realise there was a simple cot in one corner of the room, the other corner had his waste bucket, and by the door was a copper pan.

When he located the cot he dragged himself towards it and made use of its’ rough bedding at once, he could only sleep on his front… His back was so cut and bruised from his lashes that moving his arms hurt, breathing hurt, even moving his neck was painful.

His scabs cracked and broke as they desperately tried to repair his marred and brutalised flesh.

He awoke with a start when a small hatch at the bottom of his door opened and a long ladle entered and poured into the copper pan.

Immediately he threw off the grogginess of sleep and yelled; “Wait!”

Throwing himself from the bed and slapped against the stone floor and crawled towards the hatch.

“Why?” he cried, “Where is Lilith?!”

He tried shoving his head into the hatch and he extended his arms towards the legs of the captor.

Looking up he saw only a masque’d face and the detail less robes of a cultist. They were carrying a steaming pot and an absurdly long ladle.

Pouring the contents of the ladle back into the pot the cultist at once began batting Ciel’s arms away with the hot steel coup.

Shuddering and whimpering in pain the young earl was forced to relinquish his grip.

“Please! Stop!” he cried. Covering his face he began pleading, “I can pay you! I’m Ciel Phantomhive, I have the Queen’s ear!”

He knew somewhat that his cries were going to fall on deaf ears, but the terror in his heart wouldn’t allow him not to try. And he screamed, “Please just let me go!”

The cultist hit him repeatedly until finally ordering, “Get back in your cell!”

Tearfully Ciel complied and retreated back through the hole.

The cultist hadn’t shut the small hatch and instead returned the ladle to the pot, saying only one word, “Plate!”

Ciel shivered as he sat back up. Looking to his side he saw the small copper disk and nodded.

Taking it he hesitantly lifted the plate towards the hole and the ladle poured out another helping of a chunky broth.

With a kick the cultist closed the hatch and Ciel was left with his steaming meal of soup.

Eyeing the plate uneasily he sat holding the edges of the copper plate until his stomach finally groaned.

He hadn’t any idea how long he’d been held already, but he couldn’t afford to leave it any longer.

Ravenously and without reservation he began to drink at and slurp the thin broth.

It was an oily green and reminded him of a chicken stock… but… he dared not imagine what it was really.

…

After his meal, he examined the cell.

It was recently refurbished, and its stones had been freshly touched with a mason’s chisel.

The bed’s timbers were freshly sawed and everything else was new.

There were no markings or adornments on the plain stone walls. But glistening in the low lighting of the cell he saw a trickling from a crack in the room’s roof.

He groaned and tried to ignore the irritating sound. ‘Filthy…’ he thought.

…

He was easily picked up and brought to one of the chambers he’d been in previously.

Though the meal and water had given him some energy, and the sleep on a real bed was welcomed, he did not have any fight at the moment.

Ciel was expecting more _salt_ , but instead he received _sugar_.

The twin sisters who had first ‘broken him in’ entered the room and set upon him in much the same fashion as they had the first time he saw them.

Assaulting him with their tongues and mouths, they kissed his wounds and coated his back in a salve of honey-smelling poultice.

It stung, but then began working a feeling of relief into his body.

He shook his head and shut his eyes as he tried to fight the two pronged attack on his body.

Involuntarily he groaned a few times as they plied themselves on his flesh.

His pleasurable intonation made the sisters cackle with delight and they doubled their efforts.

…

“My lord… your resistance is laudable but, please just allow us to make you feel better!” Blue pouted.

Pulling herself off of Ciel’s member with a pop, Purple nodded and breathily exhaled, “It’s so much better of you to enjoy our gifts rather than rebuke.”

The earl twitched and his breath was increasing as his body betrayed him.

‘I c-can’t…’ he thought dully.

Through his gritted teeth he whispered, “please… stop…”

The sisters looked at one another and obviously furrowed their brows. Putting on faux expressions of disappointment their voices were just as fake and condescending;

“Aww… I think we’re letting our guest down Blue…”

The blonde nodded and brought a hand to her sisters’ face as she caressed her chin.

“I think we’re to double our efforts Purple...”

They sniggered and nodded perversely before resuming their assault on Ciel’s genitals.

Purple moved low and stuck out her tongue as she began licking and kissing at his scrotum and the underside of his shaft, while Blue opened her mouth and loudly enveloped the tip of his cock.

Ciel shuddered and his body shivered with electric sensitivity as the cultists’ mouths connected with him once more.

Looking away from his groin he saw a pair of bright eyes staring at him from the dark.

Lilith watched on approvingly and held a finger to her mouth, noiselessly ‘shushing’ him.

Regardless of her order or not Ciel was barely capable of thought at the moment, let alone speech. It took everything he had in his chest to say his earlier protests, and now he definitely had nothing more in him than breathy groans and moans.

Stepping into view Lilith began touching her bare breasts and smirking. Entertained not only by her cultists at work on Ciel, but also that the young lord was struggling to look away or keep his eyes closed.

…

Coherent thought was about to be stolen away from him, and though he tried to cling to thoughts of deliverance or escape, eventually Ciel devolved into only a few token thoughts of resistance.

Days passed, and eventually evolved into a week.

Being kept underground, and in such unnatural darkness as he was Ciel could no longer discern time.

He counted as best he could; making use of the sessions of torture as his only means of reference.

The pattern of a ‘day’ would start with a morning meal, being subjected to _sugar,_ and then he was returned to his cell, before some _salt_ …

Sometimes it was just simple beatings, or a few lashes, but other days it was a little more intense. And Wurm would either beat him into unconsciousness, or Ciel would pass out from the ‘water-sport’ of the cold dunking.

But the next ‘day’ would always begin the same way; the door’s hatch would open and he’d receive his meal.

…

On the ninth, or tenth, day Ciel woke up to the unlatching and opening of his door.

He looked up from his cot and towards the swinging portal.

Four cultists entered and made for him with no words.

Still unnerved by their coloured masques he let out a shrill protest and put up his best fight.

In the ‘morning’ is when he had the most energy to give something back against his captors, and today he was going to give it his all.

Lashing with his fists and cut legs he kicked against the men trying to grip him.

“F-fuck you!” he swore.

Decorum, prose, decency, poise, nobility…

They’d left Ciel around day three.

And now he only spoke in spite, rage, or impotent hatred.

At the first word he began a torrent of profanity as he struggled and was restrained.

“You cunts! You _fucking peasants_ I’ll kill you all… I’ll kill you all!”

Becoming restrained and gagged he was carried up out of the room. The men carrying him had iron-like grips on his wrists, ankles, and neck.

Lifted up like a log he was brought through the doorway and down the hall. With only a view of the arched and beam punctuated ceiling.

The whole time of his captivity he’d been kept in the same uncomfortable garment…

Cutting into the flesh of his buttock and thigh was the tight and ill-fitting black leather thong which Lilith had gifted him. Despite everything he’d been to subject to the constant, _insulting,_ presence of the perverse underwear reminded him; that no matter what, he couldn’t even have the reprieve of hiding himself under garments.

…

The men carried him into a chamber of the castle’s dungeon he’d not yet been dragged into.

It was warmer than the rest, and was furnished like a room one would have seen in the solar of a castle’s apartments.

There were carpets strewn about the floor, the walls were adorned with tapestries, and there was real furniture.

Thrown from the air onto the carpeted floor Ciel landed with a thud and felt the wind knocked out of him.

Rising from their seats several nude female cultists, including the sisters, Blue and Purple, jumped towards him, hissing and growling at the men.

“How dare you throw him! Today is _special!_ ” One cried.

“He’s to be treated with _sugar_ you brutes!” Purple complained.

“Enough, away with you! He’s to be ours until lady Lilith says otherwise.”

The men grunted and exited as Ciel was helped into a seating position by the women.

He shuddered and looked upwards, avoiding their bare breasts, and soft… rosy flesh.

Once he’d regained his breath they helped him to his feet and pointed at a steaming tub across the room.

It was a large wooden bath, filled with soapy water and its heat wafted towards him, along with the scent of French lavender.

“Please my lord… Come!” the women encouraged.

Pulling his weak body easily towards the tub he almost couldn’t believe the pleasure that it was about to be.

‘Warm water…’ he thought madly.

Yet at once a voice in his head weakly reminded, ‘this isn’t right! There’s something amiss…’

Despite his reservations and apprehension, Ciel had been conditioned to the point that he wasn’t able to put up much of a fight against the women…

Just being in their presence was enough to sap whatever energy he had left.

…

Once stripped of his only garment, they helped the young lord into the water wearily.

He shuddered and exhaled in disbelief at the feeling of the water at his feet and the women watched him ravenously as he moaned while descending and becoming enveloped by the warm bath.

Their hands began touching his body, caressing and lovingly exploring every inch of his skin.

Rubbing him lightly they began washing and taking up his weak limbs in their hands

Their fingers gingerly kneaded and massaged his muscles.

And for a moment he forgot the piercing of Lilith’s needles…

The sting of the whips…

The bludgeoning of fists…

Even the molestation and forced orgasms of the very women at his flesh left his mind.

He was given reprieve and relief like he hadn’t in what felt like years.

But the undercurrent of the whole ritualistic bathing was something sinister. And unsettling…

After the welcomed relief wore off Ciel began to think about what it was that was happening.

His heart tightened and he looked from woman to woman.

They still retained little smiles, and they whispered to one another in Latin, as was the cultist’s custom. The only time he ever heard the Queen’s English was when they wanted him to overhear them or it was directly addressed to him.

Outside of this they all spoke their perverse Latin… Learned from the daemoness Lilith no doubt…

…

After the bath finally finished Ciel was stood up out of the water and dried off with warm linen towels.

But he wasn’t dressed back into the leather undergarment…

Instead the women held a plain, blue-dyed, cotton loincloth.

It wasn’t European in the least, and it appeared to him, Oriental, almost barbaric, and completely ancient in its simple design.

The women easily slid his legs up and into it and they pulled it up to cover his manhood and groin, yet just like the previous leather ‘codpiece’ the cloth fundoshi dug into his skin uncomfortably and made his genitals bulge licentiously against the small garment.

He felt somehow even more exposed than when he was wearing the leather underwear, perhaps it was because the blue material of the new loincloth was so thin he still felt the air against his skin, and it gave the illusory impression that he was actually somehow wearing nothing.

The women then took hold of his hands, fore arms, and shoulders.

Forcing him to walk forwards he looked to his left and right asking, “What’s going on?”

Their smirks and muffled giggles did more to unnerve him than he thought they should have and he began to feel panic rising in his chest.

‘What do they know?’

“What’s happening…” he whispered meekly.

They pushed and forced him along out of the room and down the hall.

Though it was the same dungeon as Lilith had led him to initially, it now looked utterly different, new, repaired… Everything smelt freshly built, and the beams had been replaced with freshly treated and felled oak.

They drew him down the hall farther and farther until they reached a great door.

Pushing it open he looked left and right, pleading with the women.

“Please… let me free…”

Looking at the familiar masques of Blue and Purple he stared into their eyes and saw only deranged madness.

“Let me _go!”_

Passing the grand entrance Ciel stopped in his tracks to see the room.

Lying on the altar at the centre of the chamber Lilith cooed and let out a triumphant cheer.

She was wearing a thin black dress which shone like the midnight sky; dots of silver thread made her silken costume shimmer with faux starlight, and as she stood her cheer was echoed by applause and chanting from cultists surrounding the altar in a circle.

The neck of her dress was scandalously low, its deep V showed off ample bosom and tied off at the bottom.

‘ _its… it’s… it can’t be…’_

_“The… the same room…”_

Though the altar was the ancient rock he saw when he first escaped Lilith’s presence the room had been redressed into that of the same cultist’s chamber as when he was captured so long ago.

Madness took hold of him and he began a high pitched wail as he struggled against the women’s grasp.

Lilith slithered off the altar and she raised her hands into the air as she stepped forwards, “Bring him to the stone!” she ordered.

Lifting him up and carrying him towards the altar the women happily complied.

Passing the daemoness she extended her hand and ran her long fingers across Ciel’s face in a perverse caress.

Screaming Ciel cried out “ _NOOO!”_ as he was brought towards and laid upon the altar.

His breath began drawing shorter and shallower as his mind lost itself.

The women held his arms and legs down, despite his lashing out and screaming.

Lilith walked towards his head and looked down at him as his head writhed around on the old stone.

The heavy drawing of chains and the metallic clinking of locks sealed and Ciel looked at each of his limbs to see they were now tightly bound to the surface of the altar.

_Just like last time…_

The crowd shushed itself and watched on as the female cultists joined the ranks of those observing.

Wurm certainly had lied about their number… There were more than sixteen, more than twenty… there was a legion of masque wearing faces, and glimmering, evil, eyes watching him.

Watching his lithe, nearly naked, body struggle weakly upon the dais…

The torches and hanging braziers made the room well-lit that nothing was going to be missed by anyone.

Holding out her hand a cultist approached Lilith with a glass phial of liquid.

It was a deep carmine colour and immediately reminded Ciel of blood…

_Blood…_ He thought

_No… NO ANYTHING ELSE!_

He stared at Lilith, his eyes and expression changing from malice to helplessness, from pleading to spiting, as he shivered.

With a snap of her fingers two cultists stepped forwards and held open his mouth.

Despite his grunts and muffled screams Lilith aimed the open phial for Ciel’s mouth and poured a thin stream of the potion into his waiting lips.

It tasted at once like coppery blood, giving validity to his earlier assumption and accelerating the level of terror in his already strained mind.

Shaking his head from side to side he coughed and sputtered most of the potion up and out of his throat.

Grumbling and seething at the resistance Lilith waved the cultists away and threw the phial to the floor.

It smashed loudly, and echoed into the high ceiling of the stone chamber.

“No matter…” she said lowly. Rounding the edge of the stone she raised an eyebrow and smirked at her prey.

“Ciel Phantomhive…” she cooed.

Easily mounting the altar she straddled Ciel’s waist and drew in a deep breath as a hushed moan of excitement came over the watching crowd. The material of her dress felt like ice to the touch. She smiled and whispered lowly,

“All mine…”

Ciel spat to his side and furrowed his brow as he tried to face her as best as he could.

Moving her arms behind her she lifted her skirt and easily slipped her hands into the blue loincloth, the whole while she kept an unblinking gaze on Ciel’s face, only slightly changing her expression when she began touching his manhood.

He cringed and shuddered at her cold touch, but at once an electric sensation invaded him.

His member began to tighten and he felt physical arousal.

Despite what his mind was thinking, despite the hundred watching eyes… He… he grew hard at her flesh.

He shook his head and cried out “No! _Let me GO!”_ as she began stroking and fondling his genitals.

It felt wrong… it felt sickening, but… his skin thought it was _good_. Lilith smiled and raised her hips above him, looking down and ensuring that under her skirt he could see her wet and parted lips…

As well as his own cock, eagerly awaiting the folds of her tight embrace

“No! I… I don’t want this! Let ME GO!”

Shaking her head and positioning herself above his manhood Lilith let out a sigh and punctuated it by perfectly aiming herself over him.

With one word she moaned and stabbed herself onto his erect and dripping cock.

_“Never”_

What followed was a sordid display; she dragged her nails across his chest and screamed. Arching her back, twisting her hips, drawing him in and out… in and out…

Coating his body in her pinches and caresses she switched from dozens of languages, chanting, swearing, moaning and exclaiming in pleasure as she felt him within her.

Running her hands through his hair she cried and exhaled in the tone of a lover, “give me your seed…”

Looking into his eyes her pupils split and narrowed, “Give me everything _Ciel…_ You are _mine… and I shall have all of you_ …”

Ciel’s body did little now but shiver with orgasmic rapture and his mind weakly chanted a protest as his lips mumbled and he barely continued to breathe.

_‘maybe she’ll stop…’_ he thought vainly, ‘just…just… she can have it… I don’t c-care… I… I don’t… I…’

His voice started climbing in pitch and with the last bit of reluctance thrust out of him Ciel finally began to moan in synch with Lilith, her eyes widened in triumph and she let go of his torso as she extended her arms high above her head.

The cultists watching began cheering in jubilation, applauding their lady’s victory.

Ciel… had finally broken.

“Give it to me! Fill me Ciel! _Give me your all! I demand it!_ ”

She screamed and began bringing herself down on him harder and harder.

With each thrust Ciel’s moan climbed and his shame deepened. ‘I can’t stop… _I… I Caa!’_

Letting out an incoherent scream Ciel felt a pressure grow within him and Lilith watched in sadistic glee as he contorted and shivered, his body wracked with mad orgasm.

She could feel his warmth within her and she remained upon his cock, slowly, and painfully moving herself up and down his shaft, making sure to draw as much of him within her as she could.

…

When she finally withdrew herself from atop the altar, and Ciel’s cock, she drew his loincloth back across his exposed manhood.

It tightly held his wet cock against his abdomen and she descended to give the clothed member a perverse kiss.

Standing up she beckoned Wurm and several of her cultists’ forwards.

Ciel’s eyes dully rolled around, looking slowly from spots of movement as his ability to focus and to think was temporarily out of commission.

Fingers began to trace themselves against his skin and the cultists drew upon him with paint.

They slithered their wet digits across him, writing out inhuman symbols and glyphs, adorning his flesh in the daemoness’ language.

A bright light stole Ciel’s attention and his head lulled to the left as he looked at Wurm.

With a smile the brutal torturer held aloft another brand.

Ciel blinked as he began to realise what it was and he let out a pre-emptive cry of pain as the large circular metal was pressed to the middle of his chest, over his sternum.

As he screamed in pain hands held his neck and mouth and Lilith watched as one of her cultists poured the contents of a full phial past his lips.

Gulping involuntarily Ciel ingested the foul, blood-tasting potion as his body began to feel _strange_.

The watching crowd was ecstatic and could scarcely contain their excitement at the cumulative display before them.

Coughing and weakly trying to look around Ciel’s eyes settled on Lilith as she smiled and looked around the room, spurred on by the jubilant derangement and ecstasy of her cult.

“Now!” she screamed, “NOW IT IS TO BE DONE!”

They cheered at her words, and the noise stunned him as she mounted the altar once more.

The cult as one began chanting, their words were no longer Latin… they weren’t English.

It sounded wrong… like evil given a voice…

Like darkness given sound…

Lilith sat across Ciel’s legs and held out her hand once more.

Purple and Blue stepped forwards, together they were carrying a knife.

It was black, and looked like it was made of or from bone… Yet it’s blade shone in the torchlight and the tip glinted with sharpness.

Ciel’s eyes widened and he writhed weakly under the daemoness.

His breath heavy and his heart beating madly…

Blood oozed from the brand in the centre of his chest and his throat tightened with a scream.

The chant of the cult was increasing in its speed, and Lilith took up the knife.

Looking around her with evil glee she let out a mad laugh before locking eyes with Ciel.

He screamed and she drove the blade downwards and into him.

Ciel’s eyes fluttered at the pain and he threw his head back as he coughed.

The chanting ceased and the cultists watched on quietly as Lilith went about her work.

…

She held his heart aloft and when Ciel turned his head back to see what she’d done he shook in horror as _he watched his own beating heart…_

The glyphs and symbols which had been painted on his flesh glowed brightly and he could feel the sensation of each beat still vibrate in his body… Though he was looking at it…

Lilith smiled.

_“You’re mine Ciel… You’re mine forever…”_

The cultists all threw their arms into the air and began chanting.

Lilith threw her head back and began a low laugh.

Ciel felt for the first time since his capture normal… he struggled against the chains and he screamed out protests as he tried to escape…

‘I n-need to… my… my… _my heart!’_

But the painted symbols on his body began to heat up. Looking down his skin he saw that they began to glow and Lilith looked down at him with her fanged smile, laughing more intensely now as the heat grew.

One by one the glyphs began to ignite and catch fire.

The brands… the beatings, the salt in his wounds, the sexual torture… Even the bite of Lilith’s knife…

Nothing could compare with the pain of the magick-fire now consuming his flesh.

He roared and screamed, moving from side to side and lashing like a caged tiger underneath Lilith.

The chanting of the cultists returned and she began leading them, knowing the words as she had taught them.

The whole of the ancient altar became engulfed in blue flame, the chains melted away and Ciel’s dying screams echoed louder than the chanting as the flame grew in intensity.

His still beating heart finally ignited in her grasp and Lilith watched it with a frenzied glee as the flames rose higher and higher around her.

She arched her back and ran her free hand’s fingers playfully through the dancing flames, unharmed by the otherworldly heat.

When the fire finally consumed him Ciel last heard the combination of his own screams and the laughter of the daemoness.

The laughter echoed into the darkness until finally, at once, he heard nothing more…

 


End file.
